


Flicker

by HayaChu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Candlelight, Day 4 Prompt, JeanMarco Week, JeanMarco Week 2014, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HayaChu/pseuds/HayaChu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean comes home to an apartment full of lit candles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flicker

**Author's Note:**

> For JeanMarco week 2014, Day 4 Prompt; Candlelight

Rain-slicked streets and downed lights due to the power outages around town made the drive home more problematic than usual. The streets were backed up with traffic, and a drive that usually took me fifteen minutes took me nearly an hour.

 

_Augh._

Finally, _finally_ , home… I’m ready to crash and wait out this storm in the comfort of my own bed. _That_ sounds like a wonderful plan.

 

I pull into my assigned parking spot, squeezing in between a light-pole and Marco’s old beat-up truck. It’s a tight fit, but so is every other spot at our dingy apartment complex.

 

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the mad dash I’m about to make through the rain.

 

_One… two… three!_

I swing open the car door before popping out of the vehicle, the door banging into the light-pole (the car’s already got numerous dents in the door, I can’t even count how many times I’ve hit that blasted pole!)

 

“Fucking shi—COLD!” I slam the door shut, quickly forgetting about my car’s newest ding as the freezing deluge soaks my clothes in a matter of seconds, causing the material to stick to my skin. “Cold, cold, cold!” I chant as I rush to shelter, taking the stairs up to the second floor two at a time. I nearly slip in my rush, but I catch myself before my face becomes a bloody pancake against the concrete steps.

 

I fiddle with my keys, they slip through my shaking, numb fingers twice before I manage to slip them into the locks.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ! I almost just drowned trying to get out of my car,” I call into the apartment, but the majority of my statement is drowned out by crack of thunder. I shed my jacket, the wet garment slipping to the floor with a splat. The rest of my clothes are plastered to my skin, and I can’t wait to change.

 

I step further into my shared apartment, completely ready for a hot drink and to sit in front of the TV for the remainder of the night, when I realize something is _not_ right.

 

There are a few unusual things that are not right, actually.

 

First of all, the apartment is dark, not a single light is on. My eyes flicker into the kitchen, above the stove to the microwave. The LED screen that usually displays the time is blank. _Great_. I guess we were affected by the power outages too. There goes the idea of just chilling in front of the TV.

 

Second, the candles. Candles everywhere. I wasn’t even aware that we owned this many candles, fucking hell. There’s a lit candle on every shelf, table, and drawer. Hell there are even a few lined up across the floor. The sight is actually quite pretty, the dim light cast across the apartment is almost romantic… Not that Marco had anything romantic in mind when he set this all up, right? I mean, we’re just roommates, there’s nothing between us (despite how much I wish there was). My disappointment is quickly replaced with worry and annoyance, because holy shit this is such a fire hazard!

 

“Marco!” I shout into the apartment before remembering the third unusual thing about my arrival back home.

 

Marco’s not here to greet me. Usually when I get home Marco’s either making something in the kitchen or curled up under a blanket on the couch, reading the newest best-seller with the TV humming quietly in the background.

 

“Marco?” I call out in question, but my only reply is another crack of thunder.

 

_Thunder._

 

… _Oh._

Oh shit!

 

Thunder storms and Marco do _not_ mix! How could I forget that?!

 

“Marco?” I ask again, quieter this time as I make my way to his room. It’s empty.

 

My pulse begins to race as I methodically check every nook and cranny of our small apartment. Marco’s nowhere to be found. Well, almost nowhere.

 

The last room I check happens to be my own, and I force myself to take a calming breath before I gently open the door.

 

_Empty._

 

Goddammit! _Where is he?_

 

My panic begins to rise quickly, I know how Marco gets when the weather’s like this. I pray to whatever deity that will listen that he didn’t have a panic attack and run out of the house and into the storm or _something_  stupid like that (not that the candles _weren't_ stupid).

 

But a quiet whine cuts through my thoughts like a hot knife through butter.

 

“Marco?” my voice is nearly a whisper, but the responding despondent whine makes me sigh in relief.

 

But, _where?_

My gaze roves over my darkened room, settling on my bed. I approach it before kneeling on the floor and checking under the frame.

 

“How the fuck did you even fit under here?” I utter without thinking, watching as the lump that is Marco curl further into itself. I reach out for him, and when Marco flinches away from my touch it sends a pang of hurt through my heart.

 

But I know I can’t let him stay down here. I reach for him again, and this time Marco’s hand covers my own. “No, no. Marcooo~” I whine as he tries to pull me under the bed with him. “You need to come _out!_ ” Marco finally relents and I help him as he slowly crawls out from his hiding spot.

 

Before he’s even standing straight up there’s another clash of thunder, the room flickering with bright light. Marco jumps before sneaking under the covers of my unmade bed, curling in on himself under the sheets.

 

Well, at least he’s not on the floor anymore. I sigh, running my fingers through my hair, completely unsure of what I should do. “You coulda burnt down the apartment you know! Then where would we live?” I say in a joking manner, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t help, in fact it just makes the situation worse. Marco whines, the lump of his form shuddering and shrinking further into the bed. “Sorry” I murmur. “… I’ll… go put out the candles.”

 

Marco’s panicked whine causes me to freeze in my tracks, his hand reaching out from under the covers and latching onto my arm. I chuckle nervously, petting what I believe is Marco’s head beneath the blankets. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

 

Reluctantly, he lets go. I make my way through the apartment methodically, putting out every single candle Marco had lit. However, the burn left by Marco’s grasp on my arm never dissipates, and neither does the smile it brings to my face.

 

I shouldn’t be happy about his plight, and I truly am worried about him… but this situation presents the perfect opportunity for me to get close to him without it being suspicious.

 

When I finish making sure that we won’t wake up to our home burning down around us, I head back to my room. Marco hasn’t moved an inch. I quickly change from my work clothes and into something more comfortable before crawling under the blankets.

 

I find myself face to face with Marco, his chocolate eyes filled with panic. I smile in return, hoping that that might calm him somewhat.

 

“Hi.”

 

“… Hi” he breathes. I watch as he swallows heavily, his gaze flickering downwards as he refuses to meet my eyes. “S-sorry… I’m such a bother.”

 

I frown and reach out, my hands landing on his cheeks and forcing him to look at me. “You’re not a bother. You’re never a bother. You’re just not good with storms… just like I’m not good with crowds. We all have our problems, but that doesn’t make you a bother… You’d do the same for me, right?” Marco tries to nod despite my hands holding his head in place.

 

“Thank you, Jean,” his voice is nearly inaudible and it cracks under the strain of what he must have gone through today. His arms wrap around me and his head finds its way to the crook of my shoulder as we curl up together, shrouded in darkness and blankets.

 

“Anytime.”

 

We spend the night chatting, or I do at least, trying to keep Marco’s mind from wandering to the stormy weather outside. He mostly stays quiet, listening more to my voice than to the words I'm saying. His arms tighten around me with every crack of the distant thunder, and every time he apologizes moments later.

 

And every time I say it's okay.


End file.
